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I have been writing poetry since 1995 and in 2006 attended Jack Grapes' method writing class which expanded my creativity and range. Below you will find some examples of my writing, some of which have been published in my first chapbook, GP 4.0. Please contact me for ordering information.

From GP 4.0

Pieces of Me
Happy Birthday Dad
Estimated Time of Departure

Earlier writing

Beast on the Landscape
Candle in the Dark


Pieces of Me

The world doesn’t understand my kind.
I am different.
I feel things differently than others.
I see things differently than others.
I see beyond the everyday.
I see the future, I feel the past.
The memories of the past follow me in my dreams.
The spirits of a long distant past follow me too.
I hide the darkness and I fear those like me.
They see through the veneer.  They see the truth.
They see the demon
who turned his back on his people.
Turned his back on his responsibilities.
Gave up the power, gave up the position.
I want to be good,
yet I feel the constant pull of the darkness.
Ever pulling.  Ever pulling.
I want to be a carefree child again.
Innocent and pure, unburdened by sin.
My soul is fractured,  divided to remove temptation.
I pull myself apart. 
I tear my soul. 
I tear at my soul.
I long to be whole and be safe.

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Happy Birthday Dad

I’ve done a bunch of personal work over the last few years.  It’s really been going on over the last thirty, but ramped up over the last three.  I went on the New Warrior weekend in 2003.  Deep heavy shit.  That weekend was the deepest dive into my soul that I have ever been on.  My psyche was taken apart and put back together, piece by piece.  A hero’s journey.  I realized from that weekend that I have to make peace with my father and mother.  I traveled to Australia for my father’s birthday.  It was a surprise.  We had lunch and talked, just talked, like two men.  It was wonderful.  We hugged at the end and didn’t want the lunch to be over.  We talked about life the universe and everything.  Most importantly, I told him that I thought he had done a good job in raising me.  It wasn’t easy and no manual comes with GP 1.0.  He had the doubled edge sword of a smart kid to deal with.  Actually two, my brother is as intelligent as I am, he just can’t control it.  I think it did my father good to know that I appreciated all his efforts.  I don’t know how many actually thank their parents.  Not “thanks dad” on the rare occasion, but really thank them for all the hard work. 

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Estimated Time of Departure

My dark side follows me always.  Goading and prodding.  The side that says “fuck it”.  The creature of anger and rage that doesn’t see the sunlight.  I destroy all I touch.  I am a liar, a cheat and a thief.  I even steal from myself.  I take what I want and don’t give back.  The outer shell is just that.  I took myself out of Australia and watched for the death of my grandmother.  I stood by and watched from afar as she died.
She had been put into hospital for the umpteenth time.  Her slow spiral downwards.  I got the call to come back on Wednesday.  I packed my shit together and boarded the plane Thursday night.  Fourteen hours to Sydney.  The door closed, I entered my in-flight limbo.  Nan was in ICU limbo.  Breathing stale, recycled air, we laid back, tried to relax.  Surrounded by soothing colors and a low hum of machinery, the low light and something non-descript on the screen.  How long to go before the end.  A timeless space, disconnected from the rest of the world, the occasional beep a constant reminder of the others around us.  A bright white light streams in and a voice greets us “welcome to your final destination”. 
She had breathed her last while I was over the pacific, on my way.  I had given her permission to go but I still wanted to see her before she went.  I stole that from myself by my distance.

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The ancients sat transfixed by the messages
from a distant past, so recent
and found the looking glass.

The reflected image still burned
but was different. Not yet whole,

The lichen and moss shifted and stirred
on their great frames
touched by a child's heart.

The resurrection begins.

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Beast of the Landscape

Arms burn with a visible, unseen fire
Mind searches for escape.

The beast is loose on the landscape

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Candle In The Dark

Through the darkness,
before the dawn.
The gloom surrounds preventing motion.
Struck with fear of change,
a light, a flicker illuminates a path.
He has always known the way
but the sudden disorientation clouds thought.

Darkness yields to the colors of dawn,
He walks freely, remembering the candle
guiding his way.

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The ancients,
so long ago they have left,
to hide amongst the rocks,
the old rituals held no comfort,
now awaken, in the manner of the old man,
who after many years of isolation,
is touched by a young child and filled with warmth.
They awaken from a tomb of stony sleep,
to regain their rightful place.

The beast and the innocent,
locked away for so long together.
In the continual dance of opposites.
Prevented from leaving their cell
lest one not return.

The innocent cries for company in that dark foul place,
but to enter is also to face the beast.

and thus free the innocent. But first they must wake,
and remember.

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